Blah blah cave in Utah

I never understood the whole Grateful Dead phenom. The thought of free sex is appealing but then I think to myself, do I really want a stanky hippy snatch inches from my face? I mean, sure it's free and free has an appeal to it that itches in the right spot.

So there you are in your tent with your hippy hook up and it's cold and your hair has matted into some kind of hair sandwich and she says, "Have you met Tom? He has the best dope. I think I'm gonna go over to his Westphalia. Maybe ride to the next show with him. You don't mind, do you?"

No, I don't mind. That free sex has to come from somewhere.

Now you're hooked into the second best hippy snatch and Tom's off fucking your glory riding around in the fancy pop-up VW bug.

Then Tom goes on to make that myspace site and gets rich and ends up being my only friend.

Fuck you, Jerry Garcia. Fuck you, Tom.